Readers have spoken, and written, copiously

We've just about made it through another one, gentle readers: By
tomorrow evening, we will have negotiated another election season, and
after a suitable interval of rejoicing or commiserating, we will all
get on with our lives.

Got to tell you, though, this has been one of the livelier ones in
recent memories. Not only did the candidates do their usual thing -
inveighing, mocking, deploring, attacking, bobbing, weaving - but you
readers did your part as well.

Boy, did you ever.

In fact, I can't remember an election that prompted the kind of
avalanche of correspondence that we got this time around. Letters to
the editor were off the end of the gauge. Those e-mails and
hand-written letters and typewritten missives started coming, and they
just didn't stop. It was an avalanche of advocacy. A storm of spleen.
An eruption of indignation. A monsoon of mockery.

Our readers have found their voices. And used them. Vox pop
lives.

And, this time in particular, it's deeply heartening to note that
the pleading, remonstrating and table-pounding haven't been confined to
the people we could call the Usual Suspects. They have put in their
appearances, to be sure - and bless 'em for it - but in Campaign 2006
we have also heard from any number of people who, to the best of my
knowledge, have never graced the Letters column previously.

What was it Chairman Mao said? "Let a hundred flowers blossom," I
believe. Our bloomin,' fumin' letter-writers have gotten the job
done.

No doubt, the key to this eruption was the two-way referendum on
beach access and on a requirement for referenda on any future efforts
to restrict vehicular activity on Padre Island beaches. This hit a lot
of people where they live. To their credit, they did not just mope in
the La-Z-Boy. No indeed. They sat down at their computers or writing
desks and unburdened themselves of their sentiments. Some decried the
very idea of any curbs on beach access; others, just as passionately,
expressed astonishment and dismay at the opposition, warning that it
could throttle the community's growth and frighten off investors in
perpetuity.

And that was just the beginning. There were all the races - for
school trustees, county officials, state officials, congressfolk and
senators, and on and on and on. Even a perfunctory scan of the
outpouring made it clear that, despite all that talk about politics
turning off the populace, there are - at least in this corner of the
nation - quite a few Americans who are very, very turned on - to the
point of spontaneous combustion, in some cases.

Admittedly, in a few races there appeared to have been carefully
orchestrated efforts to get letters to the editor on their way: The
disagreeable term "scripted" suggested itself.

On the whole, though, the vast majority of these missives reflected
genuine commitment and enthusiasm . . . along with a degree of fear and
loathing in certain instances. Some of it may have kept your morning
coffee from going down smoothly, but when you consider the alternative
- living in a society in which disputation of any sort, civil or
bare-knuckles, is not permitted - you have to conclude that, withal,
these exchanges are to be cherished.

Now, finally, there is one more piece of business to address before
we all disperse and prepare for our post-election observances: Alas,
some of your letters - quite a few, in fact - did not make it into
print. We regret that. I regret that. Please be advised that this was
not the result of some sinister stratagem to deprive you of your turn
at the podium.

What it is, is the fact that we just did not have the room to
accommodate the avalanche of correspondence we received. Would that we
could have. (And I understand that the Caller-Times is looking into
options to address this particular challenge.)

However, this time around, in any case, it simply was not do-able.
We did our level best to ensure that all voices were afforded exposure,
and to do as little trimming as possible. (Though, to be brutally
candid, some of you wrote at such great length that we had no option
but to engage in a certain amount of literary pruning. That can be
painful - both for the letter's author and for the ink-stained wretch
doing the trimming. Inevitably, the bits we take out turn out to be
just the bits that the author considered to be the heart of his/her
argument. A bit of friendly advice: If you don't want your letter cut,
write short in the first place.)

As I survey the den I inhabit here at the Caller-Times, there still
are letters scattered around - on the sofa, on the desk, on the floor -
not unlike the debris left behind on the battlefield after the soldiers
have moved on.

Whether your cause was mine or not, whether our meditations inspired
or infuriated you, I salute you. Party on, so to speak.